


Safety

by likelyvalentine (nokkakona)



Series: Way Back Home [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Charon Accidentally Punches Lone In The Face, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, implied childhood abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:06:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8052163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nokkakona/pseuds/likelyvalentine
Summary: Charon remembers a scene from his childhood during a bad dream. The Lone Wanderer tries to wake him up, but gets caught in the crossfire of his nightmare in the process.





	Safety

_There were balloons outside Charon's window. Red, orange, and gold, like the morning sky. The little girl next door was having a birthday party- she had just turned five. He was around the same age, maybe a little younger. His mother stopped counting the marks on the doorframe where he stood once a month while she traced a pencil over his head. He was tall, and she was sick of knowing exactly how tall._

_He watched the party from his bedroom window. The girl- God, what was her name? What had she looked like? - was crying into her ice cream cake because a little boy had been running with scissors and popped one of the balloons tied to the back porch. She didn't like the loud sound, and now she didn't like the little boy._

_The world was so simple for children. Fear became tears, and tears required comfort. The girl's father- or maybe her mother- hugged her and told her that it was going to be okay- the noise couldn't hurt her. Nothing could. She was safe._

_Upstairs, alone in his bedroom, doing his best to pretend that the cold air coming from the vent above his window was a summer breeze, Charon wrapped his arms around a careworn stuffed animal and told himself the same thing._

* * *

 

"Charon... Charon!"

The sound of his name jarred him awake. Someone's hand was on his shoulder, and in his panic, he thrust them away, rolling out of the bed and stumbling toward his gun on the windowsill.

The figure on the bed let out a pitiful whine, swinging it's legs over the side of the bed. "Oh, God, my nose...! You broke my nose!"

The dream loosened its chokehold on him, and he gave his head a shake, blinking the grains of sleep from his vision. "Shiloh," he said. A new fear gripped him as he remembered the contract. "Don't come any closer," he snarled, his grip on the trigger tightening.

Shiloh let out a stifled gasp, holding her hands up. "Charon, what the fuck?" she said. Her voice was low and even. Calm wasn't a state he associated with her.

His eyes flickered toward her gun, holstered on the nightstand. He watched her hands, outstretched, for any sign of movement. "Violence invalidates the contract," he said.

"I'm not going to slit your throat because you had a bad dream." Slowly, she curled her hands into fists and tucked them behind her head in a stretch. "Besides, I'm tired, and that sounds like a lot of effort," she said, a yawn breaking her words.

The pinks and reds around her nose and lip turned a little darker with each passing second. Her skin must have been throbbing, yet she seemed so relaxed. Charon ground his teeth together. "You're in pain."

She snorted, then winced. "You just clocked me in the face. So yeah, just a little." Seeing the hard line that took to his jaw, she sighed. "I'm not about to hurt you. Come on, just put the gun down. It's too late for this shit."

Slowly, his hold on the trigger loosened. He didn't realise how badly his hands were shaking until the shotgun began to rattle in his grip. Shiloh rose from the bed and approached him, curling her fingers gently around his wrist. He abandoned the gun on a chair.

"Now that that's over, can we please just go back to bed?"

She was trying to hide it, but her own tremors passed to him through her careful touch. Now, with her face no longer shadowed by distance, she looked pale.

"I'm... I'm sorry." The boundaries of the contract swallowed him once more. He pulled away from her. "I will keep watch."

Fear became disappointment. "If that's what you want." Charon's eyes fell to the floor. "At least grab me a stimpak from my bag?" she asked.

"Sure."

He heard boxsprings whine behind him as Shiloh sat and began braiding and unbraiding a knot of hair.

"What were you dreaming about?"

The question took him off guard. His hands stilled around the cool vein of the needle. All at once, the dream came rushing back to him, but he held his tongue. "One or two?" he asked.

"What?"

He pulled out a handful of stims. "One or two?" he repeated.

Shiloh's lips puckered. "One is fine."

He brought it to her, popping the cap off of the needle and letting it drop onto the carpet. Shiloh's face was still sleep-warm when he put his hand on her forehead. "Don't move," he said. She stayed still as he injected the stim into the skin of her cheek.

"You didn't answer the question," she mumbled, eyes following his hand when he pulled away.

"No," he agreed, dropping the empty syringe into the trash. It clinked hollowly against the metal bottom.

"If you didn't want to, you could have just said so." Shiloh touched the bridge of her nose gingerly. "Talking's supposed to help, right?"

"Talking is unnecessary."

Shiloh snorted. "At least you still have your sense of humor." Charon began to collect his things, and Shiloh sighed. "You don't need to stand guard, Charon. If you don't want to stay here, there's always the couch downstairs, or--"

Charon interrupted her by leaning his shotgun back against the end table and sitting stiffly in the armchair by the bed, hands resting on his knees. Shiloh raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged. "You said I didn't need to _stand_ guard."

Shiloh twitched. "I guess I did."

Quiet swept over the room, broken only by the sound of Shiloh shuffling back underneath the covers. The chants of the Children of Atom outside the window echoed in the distance. Charon shut his eyes and fell into the rhythm, matching his breaths to the tune, and soon, his anxiety faded.

He opened his eyes to look at Shiloh, her back toward him. He didn't recognise the feeling that gripped his gut when he thought about the shaken expression on her face when she had touched him, illuminated by the moonlight. He had hurt her- she had forgiven him- but she had still been afraid.

The question slipped past his restraints before he could shut his mouth. "Do you feel safe?" he asked.

The covers rustled, and Shiloh's face peeked over her hunched shoulder. "What?"

"Does my presence make you feel safer?" he amended.

"Well... yeah?"

The knot in his chest loosened. Satisfied, he fell silent. Shiloh rolled onto her back.

"Do you feel safe?"

The question sent a pang of anxiety through his stomach. "We are not currently in danger," he said.

"That's not what I- oh, never mind." The curtains behind Charon's head fluttered as a hot breeze snuck through the cracks in the window. "Good night, Charon," Shiloh said.

"Good night, Shiloh."

**Author's Note:**

> good enough


End file.
